Human Interest
by emrie
Summary: A magazine wants to do an article on the married Chiefs of Staff of the Presiednt and First Lady. Josh and Donna are forced to see their relationship through outside eyes.


**Rating**: teen

**Summary**: Josh and Donna deal with an article being written about their relationship.

**Disclaimer**: I have no claim on "West Wing" or any magazine publications

**Notes**: Any feedback you have to give would be, by me, appreciated. I especially love specifics!

**o**

**o**

**o**

Donna Moss sat down at her desk with a sigh, kicking off her shoes and resting her stocking-feet against the carpet. Her new heels were killing her, and the day wasn't even half over. If only they hadn't looked so damn good with this suit. She shrugged out of the grey blazer as well, allowing herself to slump in her chair with the door closed. She'd found early on that banking for moments of total collapse, no matter how brief, could get her through the longest of days.

Before her time was up there was a knock on the door, followed by her new assistant, Erin. Donna was regularly amazed at how old she felt beside girls like Erin; most days she was shocked to discover that she was no longer a fresh-faced ingénue of twenty-five, that ambitious young women in the beltway saw her as an older role model. Still, role model or not, Donna had always striven hard to never forget her roots in assistant work, and had always treated her assistants with respect and friendly camaraderie.

"Sorry, am I interrupting you?" Erin had only started three days ago, transferred up from the events planning office after Cora had unexpectedly given notice to follow her fiancé overseas. She was incredibly good with details and organization, a benefit of her previous employment, but still a total novice about the major players and politics of Donna's world. She also had a timidity that Donna hoped she'd lose in a hurry.

Still, Donna made an effort to smile, conscious of trying to put her at ease. "No, not at all. What's up?"

"Um…" Erin flipped through the notepad in her hands, "Maddie wants to know if you've looked over the First Lady's speech for the Leadership in Education Breakfast?"

Donna unearthed the draft from the stacks on her desk and glanced at the first page, disappointed to see from the lack of pen marks that she had not gotten to it earlier. "Not yet, when am I meeting with her?"

"Two."

"Okay…I can have it done by three. She free then?"

"She is, but you're not."

"I'm not?" Donna looked up from the speech, which she had already started to skim.

"No." Erin checked her notes again. "At three you have a meeting with Craig from Lou's office—"

"You mean Greg?" Donna hated correcting her, but she had to learn the names sooner or later.

"Sorry," Erin looked pained, and jotted a note in the back of her notebook. "I thought he said Craig. Anyway, he's briefing you about their new stance on health care. They…" she read aloud from her notes, "want the First Lady on message, because she'll be getting questions about it this week."

"Okay, move Maddie until four, then. Anything else?" Donna was hoping she'd find time for lunch somewhere in the midst of a clearly crowded afternoon.

Erin handed over a phone message. "Eloise Twill from _People_ magazine wants you to call her before the end of the day."

Donna stood up, rearranging stacks of papers on her desk. "That's about the special piece they're doing on the First Family…any questions should be directed through Communications or scheduling."

"Actually, she said she had a question for you, specifically."

"She did?" Donna picked up the message, but it offered no new information. "Did she say why?"

"No."

"Did you ask?"

"I wasn't…sure if it was my place." Erin looked chagrined.

"It's always your place. If it's truly private, they won't tell you, but otherwise ask. You're of most help to me when you know everything I might need to know." The words felt strangely familiar, harkening back to advice she herself had once received in what now seemed like another lifetime. "Anyway, if you want to get her on the line I'll call her back and then go grab some lunch." She noted Erin's pause and queried, "Was there something else?"

"Someone named Margaret called over from the Chief of Staff's office. He wanted a meeting with you at two."

"He did?" Just that little bit of news and already Donna's feet hurt less. Last she'd heard from him, he was supposed to be getting in tomorrow; he must have changed his flight without telling her.

"I told them you had a meeting at two, but you had time tomorrow morning." Erin was frustratingly literal with time, having not had enough experience with the fluidity of the daily schedule in the White House. Everyone tried to stay on task, but usually they were behind before mid-morning.

Donna tried not to sound at all irritated by this inflexibility as she slipped back into her jacket and too-tight shoes. "Well, we've moved Maddie to four, so I'm free now. Besides," she smiled, "we never turn down a meeting with the Chief of Staff."

"Okay, right." Erin was scribbling in the back of her notebook again, tongue between her teeth in concentration. She perked up, making a connection. "Is that because you're both Chief of Staff and everything? So you'd need to consult? That makes sense."

Donna reminded herself to be patient: Erin was totally new and out-of-the-loop, coming in from events planning, and besides, he'd been away on a trip to Japan for the past two weeks. "Well, that, and the fact that he's my husband."

Erin's mouth formed a perfect O of horror at her gaffe, and Donna had to suppress a smile, pretending not to have noticed. "Anyway, if you'll just put the call through, I'll take care of Eloise before I go."

**o**

**o**

**o**

Fifteen minutes later, Donna was striding through the West Wing. It had taken her almost a year to stop looking for Josh in his old office, including several embarrassing encounters with Sam, but with every day that passed she found it easier to adjust to all the differences in the place she once knew so well. Margaret waved her through with nothing but a smile, and Donna was grateful to not feel obligated to stop and chat. Josh was always complaining about Margaret and her weird quirks, but she knew discretion where it counted.

"Hey," Donna said softly, shutting the door behind her. Josh was sitting with his chair facing the window, but he spun around when she entered. In that split second before a smile lit his face Donna was reminded of just how worn he looked these days, how these past few years really had aged him. He still had his boyish enthusiasm and charm, but blended into that was a sense that all the world's problems were always weighing on his shoulders. Which, she supposed, they actually were.

"Hey," he responded, jumping to his feet and tossing a blue-foldered NSA brief down as he walked around his desk towards her. Donna still loved the way his voice got all high and soft sometimes when he talked to her. It was hard to resist the urge to pin him against the wall with a passionate kiss, but she limited herself to a more chaste version, hands lightly on his shoulders.

"Welcome home," she said gently, allowing for a second light kiss next to his earlobe. "I missed you."

"Yeah?" He locked his fingers behind her back, holding her loosely against him. "That's funny, Margaret said something about you refusing a meeting with me, booked straight through until tomorrow. Guess you didn't miss me that much, huh?"

"Oh god," Donna tilted her head back in exasperation, heard several vertebrae pop. "My new assistant."

"Doesn't want you to have a personal life?"

"Didn't know I _have_ a personal life. Somehow, she's managed to get this far without realizing that the Chiefs of Staff share more than just matching titles."

He snorted, releasing her and sitting down on the edge of his desk. "She sounds bright."

Donna found Erin frustrating, but still felt obligated to defend her. "She _is_. She's great with details, and once I tell her something she never forgets. She's just…"

"Stupid?"

"Well, I was gonna say young."

"You were young, and you weren't stupid."

"Josh," she crossed her arms, not sure if he was kidding.

"What?"

"You said I was stupid all the time back when I first started! I seem to remember you calling me a ninny — a word it should be noted that only grandmothers still use — and telling me I should make flashcards to learn names!" She had done it, too, and she still had them all, rubber banded into separate piles and stored in a box somewhere. Not that she'd ever give him the satisfaction of knowing that.

"I never thought you were stupid." At her look, he cracked a grin. "Not usually, anyway. Seriously though, she didn't know about us? Has she been living under a rock?"

"We're hardly news anymore, Mr. Inflated Self-Importance," Donna pointed out fairly. "She wasn't even in D.C. until last year, so it's fair for her to have missed that bit of gossip." She checked her watch. "Anyway, speaking of gossip, I just had an interesting phone call. Do you have a few minutes for lunch? I can fill you in."

"Sure, lemme just — _Margaret_!"

Donna smacked his arm. "Don't shout."

Margaret appeared in the door, eyebrows raised. Josh smiled and lowered his voice. "I'm just gonna run down to the mess for a few, okay? In case, you know, anyone calls."

"Margaret, can we get you anything?" Donna cut in. Josh had the good grace to look ashamed for not thinking to ask.

"No, thanks," Margaret sighed, and retreated back to her desk.

"She's on some, uh, weird new eating thing," Josh muttered in an undertone as they exited the office, seeing Donna's questioning look. "Something about no solid foods. Keeps making these packets of instant soup."

Donna smiled, knowing as well as he did that with Margaret it was always one crazy idea after another. She knew having an eccentric assistant kept Josh entertained, and felt no resentment towards her long-time friend and colleague for taking her place in that part of Josh's life. "I give that diet a week," she responded absently.

"Let's hope." They were out in the corridor now, walking side-by-side, a natural state of being for them. Donna had long ago realized that her most clear visual memories of their developing relationship always involved them talking on the fly, striding down halls as they raced between meetings, swapping jokes and information. Even once they'd started dating they'd never been the type of couple to stroll and hold hands; they were more likely to be found speed-walking to a restaurant on a rare night off, arguing about policy, or catching up in the corridors between appointments. Donna didn't care that so much of their relationship involved her hustling alongside him in heels. It was just something they did together, something that fit their schedules and their personalities. Plus, she had always loved his walk, that familiar swagger, part glide, part prowl.

"So what's this thing about?" he asked, as they headed for the mess.

"Hm?"

"The gossip thing, you said you wanted to ask me about."

"Oh, right. Well, you know that _People_ magazine is doing a special on the First Family?"

"No. Should I?"

"Probably not. But they are. You know, some domestic photos, a short interview with the President and First Lady, showing the public how normal they are, what a sweet family, that kinda thing."

"Right."

"You know the kind of thing I'm talking about?"

"Not really," he admitted casually. "Sounds kinda girly."

"PR friendly," she corrected.

"Right." He was in business mode, walking so fast she had to hurry to keep up, once again cursing her choice of shoes that day.

"Anyway, I just got a call from the magazine, a woman named Eloise Twill —"

"Her name is Eloise _Twill_?"

"What about it?"

"Nothing." He turned a corner, looking back at her over his shoulder, and she could see that he wouldn't be able to hold back his question. He stifled a laugh, "I'm sorry, it's — I mean, are journalists just allowed to make up their names now?"

"What's wrong with her name?"

"She sounds like someone the Brothers Grimm made up, sitting on muffet and eating porridge or something."

Trust Josh to focus on a totally mundane detail like that, and get the story wrong in the process. "A tuffet, Josh."

"Huh?"

"Little Miss _Muffet_, sat on her _tuffet_, eating her curds and whey."

"Okay…should I be worried that you know that?"

She rolled her eyes. "You were the one who brought it up. Anyway, the point is that I talked to Eloise, and she actually wants to interview us as well."

"Interview us for what?"

"For a sidebar to the article on the Santos family."

That stopped him dead for a second, but then he was walking again, this time watching her out of the corner of his eye. "They want to do a sidebar? On us?"

"Yeah. Eloise said it'd be like one page, after the Santos article."

"This isn't one of those magazines where we'd have to talk about our sex life, is it?"

"Josh!" Donna looked around, hoping no one had heard. They'd made it a point to try to keep the more personal details of their married life far away from their professional spheres.

"I mean, not that I object," he raised one eyebrow in her direction and as much as she tried to look disapproving, she couldn't help the warm flutter of desire she felt whenever she saw that glint in his eye. "I'm just asking 'cause I think the press office might have something to say about that."

"It's not _Cosmo_, Josh, it's _People_."

"Is that supposed to mean something to me? Those girly magazines are all the same."

"Actually, they're not." By this time they were in the mess, pulling food onto their trays as they slid through the line. Donna handed him a plastic container of salad, but didn't object when he took french fries as well. "_People_ is more about human interest stories, celebrity interviews, real people doing incredible things."

"Right." They were at the cash register, and Josh gestured to their trays. "Hers as well," he said to the cashier, and handed over the money for both lunches. After over a year of marriage, Donna loved these little sweet things most of all, things he did without thinking, not even trying to impress her. Like paying for her lunch, or remembering to go pick up their clothes from the dry cleaners on Sundays. Together they headed for an empty table in the corner of the mess. Lunch was winding down, but the room was still crowded enough. "So what would this…article entail?" Josh asked.

"Well, I didn't get all the details, but it sounds like they want to do a little piece on us, you know, working for the First Couple and being married ourselves. Same thing as the main article, a few photographs, a short interview. No big deal." Donna grabbed a few french fries off his tray. "What do you think?"

"I'm confused." Josh scratched his forehead. "Would this be to talk about policy or something?"

"No, Josh, it'd be about _us_. About our life together."

"Why?"

She shrugged. "Regular people like reading about stuff like that."

"Well, regular people are morons!"

Donna sighed. Sometimes explaining stuff to Josh was like talking to a five-year-old. A five-year-old whose obsession with politics bordered on pathological. She explained slowly, trying to be patient, "Yes, but we want those people to vote for us, so it's good to let them read things that make them like us."

"_I'm_ not running for office!" he protested, and she thanked god for that fact. "What does liking me have to do with _anything_!"

"It shouldn't, but it does. Liking you gives people warm fuzzies towards the President."

"I'm sorry, 'warm fuzzies'?"

She ignored him. "It's good PR, Josh."

He sighed, rubbing his fingers over one eye. "I've never been very good with PR."

"So I've noticed," she said dryly. He raised his eyebrows at her and she smiled. "I already ran it by Lou and she approves, said every little bit looks good for the administration. So…are you okay with it?"

He glanced at his watch as he downed the last of his soda. "Sure thing." He stood, his salad still untouched, and she got up as well, even though she'd barely eaten anything yet. "I've got Senior Staff in five. Why don't you give that Ellie Muffat a call—"

"—Eloise Twill, Josh—"

"—right, whatever. Give her a call and say we'll do it. Tell her that I'm looking forward to it." He shook his head, irritation creeping in. "Looking forward to my chance to _further_ encourage the American public in their never-ending quest to care about the most insipid—"

"Josh," she cut him off. "You realize you'll have to be polite for this interview, right? We're not looking to offend the readers."

"Sure thing," he said nonchalantly. "I'm polite!" Before she even had a chance to protest the utter ridiculousness of such a statement coming from his mouth, he dropped a quick kiss on her cheek with a promise not to be home too late, and he was out the door.

**o**

**o**

**o**


End file.
